What the Body Wants
by bingblot
Summary: What happened after Castle and Beckett's date night in the Hamptons. A smutty one-shot insert to "What the Heart Wants" but it can stand alone.


Disclaimer: All things "Castle" belong to Andrew Marlowe and ABC & Co.

Author's Note: A smutty one-shot insert to my other story, "What the Heart Wants," but since this is shameless, plotless smut, this can stand alone.

For Mobazan 27.

**What the Body Wants**

The drive back to the house was quiet, not uncomfortable exactly, just… charged with the unspoken desire arcing between them.

Somewhat surprisingly—or not, considering Castle did need to drive—they didn't touch in any way either, although Kate was conscious of his quick glances at her. Glances which she sternly did not allow herself to meet. Although she was still conscious, as if every nerve in her body was attuned to his, of his every movement, aware of his hands on the steering wheel and the gear shift, every shift of his thigh as he worked the pedals. She managed not to squirm—but good lord, how had she never realized before that the mere act of driving a car could be so sexual, sensual?

Back at the house, she was glad to get out of the car and feel the cool night air against her heated skin. She couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed that he didn't make any move to touch her then either, only walked silently by her side into the house.

It wasn't late by any means but by some silent agreement—or maybe it was the magnetic pull of a bed—they both turned to go up the stairs, still not touching and not talking.

The air felt thick between them, heavy with the building lust, until Kate thought she had to do something to break through it or she might simply spontaneously combust.

They had reached the top of the stairs and she stopped, turning to face him just before they reached the door to her guest room. "Thanks for dinner, Castle. It was delicious."

This statement and the implication that the evening was ending made him blink. "Anytime. It's early still. Do you want a nightcap or something?"

She sternly hid a smile. His clear reluctance to end the evening was adorable. "No thanks. I'm okay."

He tried—and failed (miserably)—not to show his disappointment. His mouth opened and then closed again as he clearly weighed how blunt he wanted to be. It wasn't as if either of them had come right out and said anything about having sex because of course they hadn't.

"What, Castle, you didn't think I was the type of girl who falls into bed after just one date, did you?"

Put like that, he had no choice but to answer, "Well, no…"

She allowed her smirk to slip free, swaying closer to him to brush her lips against his cheek, almost at the corner of his mouth. "But I was thinking that tonight probably counts as at least our second date." Their first date had probably been that late dinner at Remy's after the Drago debacle.

He almost choked on his intake of breath, hope and lust flaring in his eyes. "You think?"

She nodded even as she took a slow step away from him, her tongue deliberately swiping over her lips, riveting his gaze. Given the lust already thrumming through her veins, it took no effort at all to allow her voice to become husky. "And I was thinking, the tour of this house the other day didn't include your bedroom. D'you want to show it to me now?"

The mention of his bedroom galvanized him and he started forward even as she skipped backwards, not really trying to get away. "You coming, Castle?" she teased, the familiar words slipping out now as a double entendre.

He huffed something that was half a laugh and half a growl as he caught an arm around her waist, crowding into her. "You realize you're going to pay for teasing me like that."

"Do your worst, Castle," she shot back. Or his best.

He made a soft sound in his throat and then he was on her, pulling her against him as he claimed her mouth. And it was a claiming. Her head spun as she vaguely realized that all his kisses until now had been holding back. He wasn't holding anything back now as he kissed her, hot and hard. He was confident, passionate, his lips and tongue taking possession of her mouth as if he owned it—and maybe he did because she was finding it hard to remember that she'd ever kissed anyone else and even harder to imagine kissing anyone else ever again. In some vague corner of her mind that retained a shred of coherence, she was aware of a niggle of unease at that—the commitment inherent in it, too much, too fast considering they hadn't even been together for a day yet—but then his tongue curled around hers in a way that effectively cleared her brain of any thought whatsoever and she forgot it.

She wasn't quite sure how it happened but they stumbled backwards down the hallway to his bedroom, still kissing, his hands and hers greedily grasping at each other.

His hands sought and found the zipper of her dress and undid it, sliding inside to caress the bared skin of her back. She gasped into his mouth at the heat of his hands and arched into him, almost stumbling over her own feet.

His arms around her prevented her from pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders and she tugged ineffectually at it. He understood thankfully and released her just long enough to shrug out of his jacket, discarding it on the floor, just inside his bedroom but it was a near thing.

She took the opportunity to shimmy out of her dress letting it pool on the floor and was doubly glad that she'd had the foresight to pack and wear the skimpy underwear set when he sucked in a sharp breath.

He hadn't turned on the light in his bedroom, was staring at her in the light spilling in from the hallway, but now he flicked on the light switch and closed his bedroom door behind him, his eyes never leaving her.

She felt his avid gaze like a touch, her skin prickling with heat, warmth pooling low in her stomach, between her legs, as his eyes took in the miniscule scrap of navy silk and lace masquerading as underwear.

"You are so gorgeous," he husked and oh, his voice had dropped lower to a gravelly tone she'd never heard from him before and that seemed to feather along her auditory synapses.

She had to swallow hard before she found her voice, breathless and almost trembling with arousal. "And you're overdressed."

He really was, still fully clothed with only his jacket off.

"Not for long," he smirked, his hands immediately going to the buttons of his shirt and she didn't try to disguise her eagerness or her desire as she stared—ogled—his chest as it was revealed. All that lovely warm skin, the muscles of his chest and abdomen, flat and just toned enough, his broad shoulders and strong arms. All she'd already seen when he was in his swim trunks but now, she could really allow herself to enjoy the view. And now she was allowed to touch. And she would—oh, yes, she most definitely would.

Her hands moved to undo the clasp on her bra as he undid his belt but he stopped her. "No, wait. I want to do that. Just lie down on the bed."

He was telling her what to do in a way she wouldn't normally allow but there was enough sensual intent in his eyes and voice that she couldn't bring herself to mind—and she found the masterful edge to his persona was… thrilling, sexy. She knew he could be tender and sweetly affectionate but it just did something to her to find that he could also take charge. Besides, she had no doubt that whatever he did would be good for her too.

So she listened. Putting just a little extra sway into her hips as she crossed his room to his bed and sat down. She did not lie down—he couldn't have it all his way and she wanted to watch as he finished stripping.

Which he did with a haste that betrayed his own eagerness—almost as much as his rampant arousal that was now, finally, bared to her as he pushed off his boxers.

Her mouth went dry, heat and moisture flooding low in her abdomen and pooling between her thighs. Oh. Oh yes. He hadn't been kidding when he said his claims were on the large side.

He was entirely naked now. Naked and gorgeous and all male. And _hers_.

But he didn't give her nearly enough time to enjoy the view, barely seconds, before he was joining her on the bed.

She wasn't sure if he fell on top of her or if she pulled him down, not that it mattered, because the looking part was over and it was time for the touching and the kissing. Mm, yes, the kissing.

His mouth was on hers as his hands roamed all over, skating over every curve of her waist and hips and stomach until he finally, at long last, reached her breasts. Cupping them, covering them with his large hands, and then squeezing gently and then more firmly as she cried out and arched, pushing herself into his hands. She loved his hands.

No, she changed her mind. She loved his mouth on her breasts, his tongue slipping over her nipple through the lace of her barely-there bra, the combination of the scratch of the lace and the wet heat of his mouth sending fire shooting through her until she was gasping and moaning and oh so close. She could come just from the workings of his mouth on her breasts, she thought dimly.

But then he stopped. No, wait, she hadn't said he could stop yet. A little whine of protest escaped her and she reached for his shoulders, his hair, tried to tug him back.

He resisted—damn him—and slid lower, his mouth sliding over her stomach, her ribs, his tongue darting into her navel. Still good but her breasts wanted more attention.

She writhed and tugged and tried to bring him back. He resisted, stubborn ass that he was, but then his hands slipped between her thighs, not quite but almost touching her center and her legs fell apart, as she promptly forgot her protest. She changed her mind again. Lower was good too.

Or at least it would be if he ever got there. The irritating man didn't, seemed to slow down even, his hands lavishing caresses on her thighs, even her knees, tickling the underside of her knees of all places. (How had she never realized before that she was so sensitive there and how did he know?) His mouth made its leisurely, torturous way skimming her lower abdomen, the crease of her thighs, making her almost choke as she held her breath in anticipation—and then he didn't go there.

"Castle," she ordered—tried to order—through her panting breaths. "Stop teasing."

"Ssh, Kate. My turn to tease."

Oh, this was his revenge. She should have known. She supposed she could allow it. To be nice.

She changed her mind. This wasn't teasing; this was torture.

His hands and his mouth were thorough, dedicated, as they explored, slid over her lower body, his hands caressing her legs down to her calves, his mouth alternating between lazy swipes and delicate kisses scattered over her hips and thighs, tracing over and around the hem of her tiny panties. He kissed along the crease of her thighs, close enough that she could feel the hot puff of his breath against her and her sodden underwear, making her whimper.

And then he moved on, neatly avoiding the part of her that was increasingly soaked and desperate for him, a touch, some pressure.

He used his hands—evil hands—to manipulate her panties to tighten against her and she gasped, her hips twisting on the mattress.

"Cas-sle," she moaned—begged.

He ignored her. She was going to kill him.

She was losing her mind and it was all his fault. Her skin was burning, her hips writhing, her fingers twisting, seeking purchase on the smooth sheets, incoherent noises somewhere between pants and moans escaping her throat.

And it was only then, some interminable time later, that he took mercy on her, kissing her _there_, through her underwear at first, and even just that first intimate touch had her jerking as if she'd just touched a livewire. She was so hyper-sensitized that just that touch sent a small tremor of pleasure rippling through her but he wasn't done. He finally divested her of her panties, sliding them off her legs and then he was back.

His lips touched her first, a soft gentle kiss that still had her crying out, and then his mouth and his tongue went at her for real, licking and sucking before his fingers joined in, slipping inside and over and around, and then she was lost, the world going white with shimmering starbursts of pleasure cascading through her.

It was sometime before she returned to an awareness of her surroundings, of Castle, lying on his side next to her, his hand tracing idle patterns on her stomach, his eyes so soft and tender considering what he'd just done to her, as he watched her face.

"That was incredible," he breathed.

A small smile trembled on her lips, warmth that had nothing to do with desire swamping her heart. Oh this man, who was more generous with his passion and his heart than she'd ever realized.

She had to wait a little longer to regain more coherence and the ability to move before she husked, "My turn," and pushed him onto his back. Her turn to play and touch all his lovely bare skin.

He fell back with a breathless little laugh that turned into a groan as she went to play, finally, finally getting to touch the broad expanse of his chest the way she'd wanted to since she'd first seen him in his swim trunks. She took her time just as he'd taken his, tracing every line of muscle, mapping every inch of his heated skin with her hands and then her mouth, pausing to lick and swirl her tongue around his flat male nipples, making him jerk beneath her.

But she didn't have his patience before sliding lower to his flat stomach and then lower still.

Oh, yes, she was going to enjoy this. She started slow, teasing light touches along his hard length with her fingers and then when he was twitching and groaning, she moved onto light, brief laps with her tongue. As if she were experimenting, until a hoarse cry ripped from his throat.

"Kate," he gasped.

She smiled up at him and then bent her head to her task with another long lick up his length before she took him into her mouth. Learning his taste and how to lick and curl her tongue around him to make him pant and moan and his hips jerk.

But then he was pushing her away. "No, not like that," he gritted out.

She understood. She wanted him inside her too and sat up, moving to straddle him, but again he stopped her. "Wait, protection?"

Oh right. Stupidly, she flushed hotter. "I'm clean and protected."

"Me too but… I don't want to take chances…" he twisted, reaching into his nightstand and for the first time that night, she felt a little twinge at the thought, the reminder, that he'd last been here with Gina.

He sheathed himself and then reached for her and his touch eased whatever she'd been feeling, her mind going fuzzy again as the fingers of one hand brushed over her nipple.

She didn't care about his past. This was now and it was real. As if to prove it, she shifted above him, gasping as he brushed against her, and then they both moved, finding the right position to allow her to slide down slowly, taking him inside her. _Oh god._ Her eyes rolled back in her head as she groaned, feeling her body softening, adjusting around him. Oh yes, this was what she'd wanted. He was what she wanted.

Slowly, almost experimentally, she rocked over him, her hips undulating as he started to move in turn, meeting and matching her movements as if they'd practiced this. She'd always found that being on top, the one in control of the movements, made it easier, better, for her but with Castle, she abruptly changed her mind, remembering her earlier thoughts—well, fantasies—about his broad chest hovering over her, surrounding her. She wanted that, trusted him.

"No, wait," she panted and he paused beneath her, a faint frown flickering across his face that she erased as she shifted over him, taking advantage of his momentary confusion to flip them over, making her gasp and him groan as the change in angle pushed him even deeper.

Kate wrapped her arms around his neck, glorying in the feel of his heavy weight flattening her breasts, pressing down over her, making her feel oddly sheltered, surrounded as she was by the cage of his arms and his body.

He turned his head to kiss her, softly, before he started to move, making her sigh into his mouth. His movements started out slow, even gentle, their bodies sliding against each other as she tilted her hips up to meet his, and then the pace quickened, not needing words to communicate now.

She felt the urgency, her need, building along with his, his hips driving into her as she wrapped her legs around him, welcoming him, urging him on.

"Oh god, Kate," he panted against her shoulder.

"Cas-sle," she moaned, his name broken, punctuated by a sharp gasp as his hips twisted, seemingly finding a new way to stroke her yet more intimately.

And then it was just a blur, her body seeming to simultaneously coil tighter and break apart, her senses coalescing solely around him, the movement of his body, the sensations rocketing through her. He gave a hoarse cry as he stiffened and jerked, his body shuddering, before he collapsed on top of her.

She was too sated, breathless and boneless, to move much but she kept her arms draped over him, welcoming the press of his body above hers, the way the dampness on their skins mingled. It took more effort than it should have but she ruffled her fingers idly through his hair, making a soft sound like the masculine version of a purr escape him. He returned the favor by turning his head just enough to brush a light kiss against the curve of her shoulder, sending lazy tingles of sensation rippling through her.

He liked it when she did that. And she liked doing it. Win win.

"Crushing you," he mumbled after a moment and she shook her head a little, she didn't want him to move yet, but after another long minute, he did, brushing a kiss to her ear before he pushed himself over to roll onto his back.

He simply lay there for another minute, as his hand found hers resting on the mattress and briefly squeezed it, and then he stood, disappearing into his en suite bathroom. She felt a ridiculous pang of loss and might have protested his getting up if she'd had the coherence to form words. Thankfully, he emerged quickly, certainly long before she felt any desire to move, and she easily switched from idly glancing around his bedroom and its understated masculine luxury, noting the nautical touches in the decor, to admiring him.

But then, he turned off the light before he rejoined her in the bed, sliding in beside her, and she surprised herself a little with how readily she tucked herself against his side, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, one arm going across his chest and one leg nestling between his. She'd never been one for cuddling after sex but it was different with Castle. It felt… like home. (Wait, what, already? She prodded cautiously at the thought, the realization, half-expecting a flutter of panic but it didn't happen. She was apparently too sated, content, to feel the lick of apprehension.) She just liked it, liked being with him like this.

He released a little sigh of contentment, nuzzling a kiss to her temple. "This is nice," he murmured.

"Eloquent," she teased mildly, smirking against his chest. "And you call yourself a writer?"

He huffed. "You're naked and in bed with me; how coherent do you expect me to be?"

She conceded the point with a little hum, brushing her lips against his chest because it was there and she could do that now.

He gave a soft sound of pleasure in the back of his throat and they settled into comfortable silence for another few minutes as she luxuriated in this closeness, this intimacy that wasn't about the sexual but was more about this sense of trust. She could feel his heartbeat as it gradually returned to normal, a steady reassuring thump beneath her hand on his chest, the ruffle of his breath against her hair.

She had drifted into a sort of somnolence, not sleepiness, just satiation that made her utterly unwilling to move, possibly ever again, when he spoke, breaking the silence.

"Kate?"

"Mm?"

"You were right. I had no idea."

It took her sluggish mind a moment to catch the reference, remember that moment of leaning in to whisper in his ear before strutting away from him, knowing he was watching her—and wanting her. Yes, she'd wanted him to want her then.

She turned a little smile into his chest. She'd had no idea either. "Yeah? Better than you imagined?"

"You fishing for compliments?"

"Yes," she quipped baldly, surprising a small laugh out of him, and she grinned, enjoying the rumble of his chuckle beneath her ear and her hand. "I like compliments."

He gave another huff of a laugh, tightening his arms around her. "As if you didn't know how sexy you are."

She smiled and dropped another light kiss on his chest.

"You know, as strange as it sounds, I think I'm glad you turned me down that day."

"Why?"

"Because if you hadn't, I'm not sure we'd have ended up here."

She frowned a little. He couldn't mean… "Because you'd have lost interest if I'd given in?" He wasn't that man.

"No!" he denied emphatically, punctuating the word with a kiss to her hair, one of his hands coming up to grasp hers. "I can't imagine ever not being fascinated by you. But I'm not sure you'd have let me get to know you like this. And well, I'm not sure I would have been worth getting to know either. You… challenged me to be more than the celebrity playboy I'd gotten so used to being. Aside from my family, no one else in years has really wanted more than that but you did. You made me prove myself and that changed me."

Oh. He might have a point, she admitted. If they had fallen into bed so early, she'd have been convinced he was only a playboy who wanted a one night stand and changing her mind would have been a lot harder.

"I don't know," she mused aloud. "If you'd stuck around, I think I would have seen you eventually, no matter how it had started." At this point, she found it hard to imagine spending time with Castle and not falling for him. Seeing him with Alexis, with Martha, seeing his kindness and his humor. Maybe they were always going to end up here, together.

(Wait. What?)

Anyway… she would certainly have wanted more than one night, could imagine becoming addicted to sex with him. But would a string of one night stands have led to more? Would she have allowed it to? Maybe not.

But really, what did it matter? They were here now and that was all she needed to know. Here and together. Oh, and naked.

She smiled and pressed another kiss to his chest, lingering this time, following it up with another kiss and then another and then a dainty little lap of her tongue, making him jerk. She could feel his body coming to life beneath her.

"You know what I think, Castle?" she hummed against his skin.

"No, what?" His voice sounded a little hoarse.

"I think we should debrief each other some more."

He choked on a laugh. "I like the way you think, Detective."

Any further words he might have said were lost on a groan as she slid her hand down his body and then followed that with her mouth. She wasn't done with him yet. Would never be done with him. She wanted this, him, forever.

_~The End~_

A/N 2: Many thanks to all readers and reviewers!


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